


what's a god to a nonbeliever

by adjourn



Category: Worm - Wildbow, ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Humor, Worm x OPM Crossover with silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-01-04 00:18:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12157749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adjourn/pseuds/adjourn
Summary: Saitama finds himself in a new world — different from his own, yet very much the same.





	1. Leviathan 1.1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this today out of boredom. it is silly. there is a little bit more that i will probably post, but not much more. enjoy!

Saitama was having a perfectly ordinary day.

“Die, human scum!”

A 12-foot tall bird creature dove through the air, screeching shrilly. Its eyes melted into a black flames as it spiraled toward its target. For the fifth time.

Saitama side-stepped. The monster crashed into the cement, destroying the … well, already-destroyed road. City Z was not exactly in good shape.

“You think you can evade me?” cried the monster. “I’ll pluck your eyes from your sku—”

_WHAM._

The world’s strongest man sneezed as the bird exploded into a vortex of dust and fathers. He wiped his nose. “Hope I’m not allergic,” he said.

He continued walking down the street, heedless of the eyes watching him from above.

“So the rumors are true … He took Emperor Oan’s most powerful assassin down in just one punch,” his watcher contemplated. “But perhaps I can get rid of him. Once and for all.”

.

.

.

Bright light flashed beneath his eyelids. Saitama rolled over onto his stomach.

“Five more minutes, Genos...” he mumbled, drawing the covers over his head.

Except — there weren’t any covers. He sat up. This was not his bed. He looked about, taking in his surroundings: dilapidated buildings, a faded street littered with trash, and no landmarks of any familiarity whatsoever. Also, it was raining.

Saitama stood, annoyed but unruffled. This was certainly not the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. In fact, he had once slept right through a monster attack and woken up in the forest with a clan of dead thousand-eyed monkeys around him. Which had explained the weird kung-fu dream, at least.

Maybe he was dreaming now? Saitama pinched himself. Nothing. Well, one could hope.

He continued walking down the street. It was entirely empty, which was a bit odd considering that it wasn’t night and he wasn’t in City Z anymore. The architecture was obviously different and there was a lot of strange graffiti that he’d never seen before.

“ABB,” he read aloud from a store’s window. “Wonder what that is.”

Staring at the glass, he noticed something else; he was still in his pajamas. And this was a clothing store. Just because there wasn’t anyone on the street right _now_ didn’t mean he wouldn’t bump into someone, and he’d had enough of running around underdressed.

He would come back and pay for the clothes later.

.

.

.

Now clad in a comfortable “oppai” shirt, a yellow raincoat, and red boots (it would have to do as a temporary replacement for his costume until he figured out how to get home), Saitama resumed his exploration of the city. He must have walked like two miles, but everything was still vastly unfamiliar. It looked nothing like any of the cities he’d fought in before, and he’d fought in all of them and in almost every nook and cranny.

Saitama sighed as the rain picked up, now a torrential downpour. If only this place wasn’t abandoned and he could duck into a restaurant for a hot bowl of udon. This day was getting worse and worse.

It was only after 10 more minutes of walking that he encountered another living being. A reporter, judging by the camera he had hoisted on his shoulder, sprinting down the street.

“Excuse me,” Saitama said. The man kept running. Saitama followed, jogging backwards so they could speak face-to-face. “Excuse me, I said. Where am I?”

The man glanced at him, incredulous and blinking, as if expecting Saitama to disappear. Finally, he gritted out, “The Docks.”

“I meant what city.”

“For Christ’s sake. Brockton,” the man panted, “Bay. Now stop…talking to me.”

“Brock-ton Bay?” Saitama enunciated slowly. He had never heard of this place before. Ever.

The man kept running. Saitama kept up his steady backwards jog.

“Of course, a cape,” the man muttered. “What are you? Mover, Brute…?”

“Are you sure this is Brockland Bay?” Saitama pressed. “Maybe it’s called something else. City B? City G?”

The man glared at him and shook his head. Clearly, Saitama wasn’t going to get anything out of him on that front. On to the next line of questioning.

“So, what are you running from?”

His eyes bulged slightly in disbelief. “Are you,” he gasped, “kidding?”

Saitama stared at him, still jogging.

“Leviathan’s coming. The sirens. The news. I just … wanted a photo,” the man whimpered. “Fuck. I’m gonna die.”

“What’s Leviathan,” Saitama deadpanned.

This time, the man actually stopped. “Okay, stop fucking around. The Endbringers … are no joke. Not. Cool.” He jabbed Saitama in the chest.

“Oh, is it a new monster? Endbringer,” Saitama said thoughtfully. “That sounds intense.”

“It’s like you’re not even from this planet,” the man groaned.

The comment set off bells in Saitama’s head, but before he could really ponder it further, something _rumbled_. An enormous wave rose in the sky before crashing down on buildings in the distance.

The man paled. “He’s here.”

“Leviathing? Is he strong?” Saitama asked.

“Levia _than_. Not the strongest Endbringer, but yeah. He’s destroyed whole cities. Reduced Japan to a third-world country.”

Saitama smiled. Could this Levia _than_ finally be the challenge he’d been waiting for?

“Thanks, random person. I’m going now.”

With that, Saitama launched himself into the air — straight toward where the tsunami from earlier had hit.

The man shook his head at his departure, then turned tail and began running again. “Goddamn capes. Always excited to get themselves killed.”

.

.

.

Saitama landed atop a roof, gazing over the scene of destruction. There were heroes scattered everywhere, none of which he recognized and all combating a single green monster with four glowing eyes. One of the Seafolk, judging by his water manipulation. Saitama hesitated, recalling how most heroes didn’t appreciate his intervention. There were so many of them gathered, too. They could definitely handle this without his help.

Then the Seafolk whipped its tail and leapt down the street, moving so quickly that even Saitama — well, honestly, he could track it fine. But the majority of the heroes fighting it clearly couldn’t, as they were violently slapped away by the echo of water that followed it. Saitama watched as the heroes collapsed. They didn’t get up.

He flinched, realizing he could have easily saved those people. These must have been lower-class heroes, even though some of them had exhibited some insane abilities.

Alright then. It was time to intervene.

Saitama rocketed toward the Seafolk, prepared to land a punch square on its back. To his surprise, the monster was quick enough to sense him coming and dodge. Saitama blinked, retracting his fist as he landed on the side of a building. Leviaman (he thinks that’s what the guy from earlier called it) had dodged his attack. Perhaps he was stronger than the normal race of Seafolk.

A powerful wall of water came rushing toward him. He punched upward through it, splitting the wave down the middle and leaving him untouched. Out of the water burst the monster, who swiped at him with its massive claws. Saitama grabbed one of the claws and threw the Seafolk over its shoulder, slamming him into the crumbling building.

He hoped this part of town was as empty as the other one.

Saitama glanced to the side, noting that there were no heroes to be taken as collateral damage. Still holding onto the monster’s claw, he hurled it over his head again and slammed it into the ground. Again. And again. And again.

This Levything was truly durable. Perhaps it was time to get … Normal. Saitama threw the Seafolk into the air, providing it an opening to throw another tidal wave at him. He didn’t even bother with it this time, instead flying straight through the water at the monster.

“Normal Series,” Saitama said, feeling wonderfully dramatic. “Consecutive Normal Punches!”

Each blow caved in another section of the monster’s body until it began to deteriorate into bits of flesh. It was surprisingly durable and appeared to have immense regenerative powers, for it had already been 3.3 seconds of Consecutive Normal Punches, and he had to punch faster and faster once he approached the Seafolk’s middle to overpower the regeneration factor.

But eventually, as all of his opponents do, the monster perished. There was nothing left but the flying bits of flesh which were (to his admitted disappointment) not coming back together to reform.

Saitama landed, carefully avoiding stepping in monster goo. It had been a relatively good fight. Certainly the best one he’d had in years, even if he hadn’t used his Serious series.

Moments later, several figures appeared in front of him. This was the part where they came to claim credit for his victory, he supposed. Accustomed to this inevitability, he merely waved.

“Hello,” Saitama said. Then, recalling his current situation, “Ah, could any of you explain where I am? This guy I ran into said it was Brickton Lay, but I feel like that’s not right.”

“It’s Brockton Bay,” the woman in combat gear corrected.

“Right, Brickton Bay. But are you sure it isn’t called City H or something like that?”

“He just. He just killed Leviathan, and he doesn’t even know where he is. He has no clue,” the well-built man in a blue costume said disbelievingly.

Saitama sighed. These people were clearly going to be no help. Weaker heroes were always so shocked after he defeated something for him.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go find a tour guide center or something instead. You guys can call the Association to take care of this mess.” Saitama was not trying to get his new outfit stained with monster goo.

He began to wander off, but was stopped by a robot with a halberd standing in his way.

“Wait. You aren’t going anywhere. You have a lot of questions to answer,” the robot said. Oh wait, not a robot. He had a beard.

Saitama shrugged. He wasn’t in any hurry, he supposed. “Sure,” he said. Except for one thing…

His stomach rumbled loudly.

“Could I get breakfast first?”


	2. Leviathan 1.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a nü start

“In summation: This man came out of nowhere dressed like a kindergartner, smacked Leviathan into a building, cut through one of his tidal waves, and then punched him to death in less than 4 seconds?”

Director Piggot, the Triumvirate, the Brockton Bay Protectorate leaders, and Dragon’s camera-monitor turned to look at Saitama, who was eating a stack of pancakes in the other room. He looked at them, syrup dripping from his chin, nodded once in acknowledgement, and went back to eating.

Piggot sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t know what to think. This man could be the key to wiping out the biggest threats to humanity we’ve ever faced, but he could also _be_ the biggest threat to humanity we’ve ever faced.”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Alexandria said. “Indeed, he was able to take out Leviathan in a few short seconds, but he may not have the same large-scale destructive ability as an Endbringer. His power may be limited to one opponent. He might be like Lung, getting stronger in the face of a stronger enemy.”

“Let’s not underestimate his abilities either,” Dragons’ avatar spoke. “He is clearly extremely powerful. Even more so than what we witnessed today, I would think. From my analytics of his tactics, as well as simple facial and body language, it becomes clear that he wasn’t really trying in the fight.”

“He did seem quite blasé about the whole thing,” Alexandria considered. “I would agree with your assessment about his level of effort, Dragon.”

“So would I. The first thing he did after he killed it is ask us where he _was._ He has no idea what or where Brockton Bay is. He wanted to know if he was in City H, whatever that is,” Legend said, still in disbelief. “He didn’t even care about the fact that he had just killed Leviathan. I don’t think he even knew what he had just done.”

“So you’re saying we have a lost, potentially delusional, Endbringer-strength or stronger cape on our hands?” said Piggot.

“He doesn’t seem hostile,” Miss Militia refuted. “And he seemed comfortable with battling monsters, as well as our presence. Even though he didn’t recognize any of us, I’m almost certain he’s a hero.”

“Hero or not, he’s very dangerous. I’d classify him as Mover 7, Brute 10 at the _least_. We need to test him.” Armsmaster turned to Eidolon. “Your opinion?”

Eidolon remained in thought for a few moments. Finally, he said with finality, “He’s a threat to humanity.”

The room fell silent.

“Where should I put this?”

Everyone tensed, jumping to look at the intruder. Saitama held his empty plate out. “Is there a dishwasher, or…?”

“Possible Stranger rating,” Armsmaster added with a scowl. “How did you get in here?”

“I walked through the door.” Saitama wobbled the plate in his hand. “So, dishwasher?”

Director Piggot took his plate from him and set it on the table. “Take a seat, please, if you’re done eating. We have some questions for you.”

Saitama did as he was told, reclining comfortably in the rolling chair. “Go ahead. I have some questions, too, uh, Miss…”

“Director Piggot.”

“Director Piggy, okay.” Legend and Miss Militia simultaneously coughed into their fists. “You’re with the Hero Association, right? Could you tell me what city I’m in?”

Director Piggot smiled tightly. One of her eyebrows twitched. “You’re in Brockton Bay, Mister…”

“Saitama.”

“Saitama. And I’m the director of the PRT ENE. These are leaders of the Protectorate. I’m sure you recognize them.”

“I don’t,” he deadpanned.

“Not one for cape news, are you? That’s fine,” Director Piggot said, although it sounded more like she was saying it to herself. “This is Eidolon, Alexandria, and Legend of the Triumvirate. This is Armsmaster and Miss Militia of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. And this is Dragon.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you,” Saitama said. “I’m Saitama, hero for fun.”

“Now that introductions are out of the way, we’d like to know a bit more about how you eliminated Leviathan.”

“...Who?”

Director Piggot’s smile grew tighter. “Leviathan. The Endbringer. The enormous green water-beast you punched to death less than an hour ago.”

“Oh, right, Lavamonster. Sorry, but you should be more specific about what day next time. It gets busy some days and I lose track,” Saitama said. “But yeah, that thing. I don’t know. I just did what I always did. He was a little stronger than I expected.”

“So the battle was difficult for you,” Eidolon interjected, almost eagerly.

“Not really. But I probably should have used my Serious Series. I just didn’t think he would heal so fast.”

“‘Serious Series’?” Director Piggot repeated.

Saitama sat up straighter, the bored look in his eyes fading slightly. It seemed these people were honestly curious about him and actually going to _give him credit_ for the defeat. “Yes, Serious Series. I have Normal Series, where I put no effort or a little bit of effort, like with Levitating-Thing today, and Serious Series, where I put effort. As any good hero does.”

“It’s _Leviathan_. And you’re suggesting that you put barely any effort into the fight today,” she said skeptically.

“Yes. I know it’s hard to believe that I, Caped Baldy, could have defeated a monster. It must have been a low-threat monster if you’re crediting me with killing it, though.” His face lit up. “Will I be moved up from C-ranking now?”

“ _Low-threat_?” Legend sputtered.

“There is a matter that concerns the Triumvirate,” Alexandria cut in. “Legend, Eidolon, may we speak in private?”

“I’ll forward you a recording of the questioning later,” Dragon said.

“Please.” Alexandria nodded. The three most powerful heroes in the world stepped out of the bemused room.

Director Piggot turned back to Saitama. “C-ranking?” she said.

.

.

.

“You aren’t interested in the rest of the … interview?” Legend questioned from where they hovered far above the PRT headquarters.

Alexandria shook her head. “Nothing he says will be particularly urgent or revealing. We can listen to it later. For now, we need to contact Contessa and make plans. This man may be the key weapon to defeating Scion.”

“Or he may be the key to destroying the world,” Eidolon said.

“Something’s wrong,” Alexandria narrowed her eyes. “You don’t trust him at all. Why?”

“Even Scion has never killed an Endbringer before. He’s driven them back, but never killed them. That man, if he is a man, might be stronger than Scion. Worse than him.”

Legend interrupted, “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Alexandria is right — we should contact Contessa. Especially since the man, new weapon or not, just took out a major combatant we had against Scion.”

“‘Had’ is a strong word. Leviathan was never in our pocket,” Alexandria countered.

Legend sighed, gazing at the city below. Though the destruction was contained to a smaller area, it was still a mournful day — the mysterious man had arrived too late to save a number of heroes.

“Whose pocket are they in, then?”

.

.

.

Director Piggot was about to lose her mind. None of what this man said made any sort of sense. He spoke of a Hero Association but didn’t know what the Protectorate was, hoped to up his rank in some ranking system that mirrored their own threat-level ranking, and referenced cities that didn’t exist, battles that had never happened.

Either this man was insane or he was…

“He’s from another world. An alternate universe,” Dragon said. “It sounds outrageous, I know, but it seems quite probable.”

It was at this moment that the Triumvirate returned.

“I think so too,” offered Alexandria. “It would explain his sudden appearance, strange power, and absolute lack of knowledge of our government. Yet he has proven himself to be quite reasonable. His cooperation and apparent clarity of thought are clear markers of a sound mind. Not delusional, I suspect.”

“He’s sitting right here, you know,” Saitama said. “So, computer lady and Armslady, I’m in an alternate universe?”

“Yes,” Dragon said. “Also, my name is Dragon. And that is Alexandria, not Armsmaster. To further this theory, I will admit that I have been conducting surreptitious scans of his brain for the past 10 minutes. He does not have a Corona Pollentia.”

This news was startling.

.

.

.

In the end, after a bit more questioning (that had led nowhere except for Saitama claiming he didn’t know _exactly_ why he was so strong), they sent him on his way. There was typically a reward for assisting the PRT with the defeat of a powerful villain, but they had never placed a bounty on Leviathan for obvious reasons. Technically, all of humanity was in his debt now. Nothing short of several billions would be enough to compensate him for the service he had performed.

Of course, Saitama didn’t know that. So they gave him a phone, a key to a PRT-owned apartment, and a credit card with a $10,000 monthly limit. He also signed something that instated him as a “rogue cape” affiliated with the Protectorate and happily wrote his hero name down as “Saitama.” It wasn’t creative, but it was better than “Caped Baldy.”

We’ll be in touch soon for an official test of your powers, Director Piggy had said. There will likely be a ceremony to celebrate and thank you for killing Lever-tan. Leaves-in-spring?

A ceremony. Saitama was in a daze. He had never been so _recognized_ before.

He smiled as he walked out of the building. It felt kind of nice.

Then he remembered he was in a different universe and his mood dampened slightly. “This is annoying,” he sighed to himself. “Genos will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

The room of people (whose names he still couldn’t recall) had addressed this, too. They weren’t sure how to get him back, but they would contact other heroes — capes, whatever — and do research. The computer-dragon had assured him so, and Saitama personally felt a bit more trusting of robots than real humans after his experiences with Genos.

Well, he supposed there was nothing to do but make the best of it. He had $10,000, an apartment, and a whole other world to save from monsters. Saitama scratched his head thoughtfully.

Perhaps there was a sale nearby?


	3. Leviathan 1.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a ceremony

Saitama arrived at his new apartment empty-handed (all the supermarkets were still closed in the aftermath of the battle), which turned out to be quite fortuitous since the pantry and fridge were both fully-stocked. Exploring the space, he found it was modestly-sized but decorated with sleek, modern furniture he had never before been able to even think of affording. The television in the living room stretched to encompass almost the entire wall. The king-sized bed had sheets with a thread-count that felt like foreign silk when he caressed it. And the bathroom had a tub with  _ water jets _ .

“Wow,” Saitama said to himself, stunned at the luxury treatment. “Maybe that Leaf-thing was pretty strong if they bought me a place like this…”

Content with his perusal, he flopped down on the couch and turned on the television. Hopefully there was some familiar programming. Would it be too much to hope that they had anime in this dimension?

Wait.

Saitama suddenly stood, back ramrod straight. He marched to the desk and laptop they had provided him, doing a quick search in the web browser for…

Oh my god. There was so much anime and manga. There was an entire  _ dimension’s worth  _ of new material to read. 

A frisson of excitement ran up his spine, perhaps the first bit of true thrill he had felt in years.

.

.

.

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■

 

♦  Topic: The Endbringers, New Cape Kills Leviathan

In:  Boards ► World News ► Main

CapeHunter (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted on May 15th, 2011:

Verified video footage taken by reporter of new (?), unknown cape defeating Leviathan: [link]

UPDATE: PRT has released official statement on the new cape, Saitama. [link]

TL;DR Saitama confirmed to have single-handedly taken down the Endbringer once and for all. There will be a ceremony to celebrate Leviathan’s defeat and commemorate the many capes who died in battle. Saitama will appear at the ceremony for an official introduction.

Official thread for discussion on Saitama: [link]

          (Showing page 1 of 578)   
  
          ►  Ninja-kin (Cape kid)   
          Replied on May 15th, 2011:

          Holy shit. This seems so unreal. I’m honestly having a hard time believing Leviathan’s actually dead. That video is insane.

          ►  Cherrylarry   
          Replied on May 15th, 2011:

          it’s a conspiracy

          ►  GuideDog   
          Replied on May 15th, 2011:

          Let’s sure hope it isn’t. Leviathan’s death is one of the greatest victories for humanity in the history of … well, humanity. Let’s not think only of the hundreds of thousands that he’s avenged, but the millions that he’s  _ saved  _ from future attacks. This cape* has done more good than even Scion.

          Edit: Saitama. Name revealed.

■

 

♦  Topic: Saitama

In:  Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)

ManOnTheMoon (Mod) (Original Poster)

Posted on May 15th, 2011:

This is the official discussion thread for Saitama, the new cape that killed Leviathan. All site rules and guidelines apply.

          (Showing page 78 of 165)   
  
          ►  Zoomba   
          Replied on May 19th, 2011:

          Does anyone else think his name is a little underwhelming? It seems like just a normal Japanese guy’s name. Does it mean anything special?

          ►  GuideDog   
          Replied on May 19th, 2011:

          Honestly, the very fact that his cape name is a Japanese name is significant enough. When you consider the damage that Leviathan did to Japan, it’s quite poetic. Killed at last by a survivor of Japan.

          ►  Zoomba   
          Replied on May 19th, 2011:

          [deleted]

**User received an infraction for this post: revealing private information.**

          ►  Brute9000   
          Replied on May 19th, 2011:

          [deleted]

**User received an infraction for this post: revealing private information.**

          ►  ManOnTheMoon (Mod) (Original Poster)   
          Replied on May 19th, 2011:

          Hey guys, this is getting a little too close to doxxing. Let’s cool it on the racial/identity talk.

          ►  Zoomba   
          Replied on May 19th, 2011:

          I mean, you can sort of see his face in the video already. He’s not even in costume. He’s in civvies. Hasn’t he already doxxed himself?

          ►  ManOnTheMoon (Mod) (Original Poster)   
          Replied on May 19th, 2011:

**Rule #3: No doxxing.** Doxxing is publishing private or identifying information about (a particular individual) on the Internet, typically with malicious intent.

          Follow the rules.

          ►  GuideDog   
          Replied on May 19th, 2011:

          The PRT is holding a ceremony to honor the defeat of Leviathan today, anyway. Saitama will be there to make a statement, so we’ll see then, yeah?

.

.

.

_ Ding.  _

…

_ Ding. Ding. _

… ....

_ Ding. Ding. Ding. Dingdingdingdingding-- _

“Agh!”

Saitama jolted awake from his spot on the couch, narrowly managing to catch the laptop that was flung from his chest. He set the laptop down on the coffee table and turned to look, bleary-eyed and disoriented, at the door.

_ Ding. _

“Jeez, I’m coming.”

He meandered over to the entrance and and flung open the door. It was the army lady, dressed to impress in full gear. Saitama had never seen so many weapons on a single person’s body (aside from that one monster he fought who was entirely made of weapons).

“Hi, uh,” he paused awkwardly.

“It’s Miss Militia. Good morning Saitama.” She looked him up and down, utterly unimpressed at his pajamas.

He yawned and scratched his stomach. “Is there an emergency?”

“No. I’m here to check in. You haven’t responded to any of our communications.”

Saitama chuckled nervously.

“Ah, sorry. I’ve been occupied.”

Miss Militia looked past his shoulder at the apartment: sink full of dirty dishes, open snack packages littered about the floor, and blankets piled haphazardly on the couch. He’d been a bit too busy binging anime to remember to check the smartphone they’d given him. 

“Right. Well, it’s good you’ve been keeping a low profile. We don’t want any unnecessary media attention on you right now. But in the future, no matter how  _ occupied  _ you are, please make an effort to check your phone at least once a day for new emails and messages.”

That wasn’t asking much. These people weren’t nearly as clingy as Genos. Saitama nodded. “Sure.”

“I’ve also come to inform you that the commemoration and ceremony for the defeat of Leviathan will be held later today. 8PM at this address.” She handed him a note. “In case you are too  _ occupied  _ to check your email, you have this note. In case you lose this, we’ve already emailed the details to you. If you click on the link in the email, it should open up a Map application that will direct you to the location. It’s walking distance, so it shouldn’t be a problem, or the taxi cab number is easily found online. If you have trouble finding it, please call me. My number should already be inputted in your phone.

Additionally, you should give the materials we emailed you a read. It should update you on the history of this world and our various policies around parahumans and capes. 

His half-asleep brain stuttered with all influx of information. “Ah. Okay.”

She gave him a stern look. “Remember two things. Read the materials. Don’t be late.”

“Okay,” he said, with absolutely no intention of reading anything. “And I wouldn’t be late for my own ceremony.”

“It’s not really your … Nevermind.” She handed him a package. “This is your cape costume. We designed it based on the specifications you gave us. Wear it today. That’s all. I’ll see you in the afternoon.”

Saitama stepped back and closed the door once she had disappeared down the hallway. He couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face. Today would be the first time he’d ever been publicly acknowledged as a worthy hero. This called for a celebration.

.

.

.

The scent of warm udon soup wafted through the air. Saitama inhaled deeply and relaxed in his seat, relishing in the familiar comfort of the noodle shop. He’d gone wandering toward the area he woke up in, figuring he could pay for his first temporary hero outfit, buy some new clothes, and treat himself to dinner all at once. 

He went for dinner first. He did have  _ some  _ priorities, and this udon place was having a buy-one-get-one deal. He dug into his second bowl.

“Hey.” 

The broth was light but deliciously savory, perfectly balanced and garnished with scallion and mitsuba. 

“Hey.”

The noodles were soft and tender, made with a true love of the craft. 

“I’m talking to you.”

It was, perhaps, the best bowl of udon he had ever had.

_ SLAM. _

The bowl shook, soup wobbling dangerously near the edges. Saitama looked up to see who had disturbed his peace: a young kid, maybe Genos’s age, with an annoyed look like someone had almost knocked over  _ his  _ udon.

“You’re the one who killed Leviathan, aren’t you?”

Oh. A fan?

“I guess,” he remembered that Miss Militia had told him to keep a low profile, “not.”

The kid furrowed his brow. “It’s definitely you. You’re dressed like a cape. And the bald head is so distinctive.”

Saitama’s eye twitched. “It’s not polite to make comments like that.”

“About your bald head?”

“SHUT UP, TWERP!”

He backed up. “Whoa, cool it, old guy.”

“I’m 24.”

“Sure, sure. Listen, I just came here to give you a message,” he leaned down and lowered his voice dramatically, “from the ABB.”

Saitama stared blankly at him. “The what?”

The kid faltered. “The Azn Bad Boys. You know, one of the three infamous gangs that rule the city.” He puffed up his chest in pride, then deflated slightly. “Well, used to rule.”

“I’m not really from around here.”

“Our previous leader made national news. Twice.”

Saitama continued, pretending not to have heard, “Anyway, I’m not interested in any gangs.”

The kid scowled. “It’s a message you’ll want to hear.”

“Buzz off, kid,” Saitama said through a mouthful of noodles. “I’m eating.”

“I’m giving you the message, okay? Or I’ll get in trouble.” He held out a piece of paper.

Saitama sighed. Being a hero was so troublesome sometimes. He grabbed the note and pocketed it. “Now shoo.”

The kid’s scowl deepened. He made to storm out of the shop, but then paused. He turned back, features suddenly somber. “Thank you. For defeating Leviathan.” A shadow fell across his eyes. “That monster killed my dad.”

He left the shop, as if fleeing, before Saitama could say a word.

The hero sat in silence for a small while, chewing contemplatively.

“Excuse me, one more bowl please!”

.

.

.

Stomach bursting from the meal, Saitama strolled through the streets with a content smile on his face. Although the area was quite different from his world architecturally, the Docks reminded him a bit of home -- dilapidated, half-destroyed, and unnaturally empty. Monster attacks sure took a lot out of a city.

Despite everything, the sunset was a beautiful splash of pink and yellow, and Saitama thought it would be an ideal evening for reading manga on his balcony. Just as he considered going back to the apartment, however, he passed by the shop he had gotten his clothes from that first day. He had almost forgotten.

Saitama pushed open the door and stepped inside, a bell sounding as he entered. The shop’s selection was decidedly sparser than when he had been there, and he wondered if there might have been some robberies.

“Welcome. Are you here for a donation or free pickup?” came a voice from behind the counter. 

“Um, neither,” said Saitama.

A woman stood up from where she had been restocking the display. She looked to be in her mid-30’s and was quite striking: black hair that tumbled down her shoulders, piercing eyes, and a muscled figure, as well as one arm covered in a full sleeve tattoo depicting a dragon eating the sun.

“A cape.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

“I’m Saitama. I had to borrow some clothing that day Leviathan attacked,” no name correction came, so he continued, “so I came back to pay for it.”

“Your name is Saitama?”

“Yeah.” Was she slow or something?

“Like the cape that killed Leviathan?”

Oh. He didn’t know they had released his name to the public already. Maybe he should have paid more attention during Director Piggy’s debriefing.

“No, that’s just a coincidence.” He hurried onward. “I’m just here to pay for the clothes. I think it must have been sixty or so dollars?”

“I’m providing free clothing to refugees in the area, so any amount you think is fine. There’s no room to think about profit right now.”

At this point, Saitama made the most difficult decision of his life. He weighed the suffering of this woman, the good she had done, and the struggles of this world’s people.

Saitama handed her the debit card they gave him and said, “Just charge it on here. One thousand is fine.” 

The inner penny-pincher in him struggled madly, but he rationalized that it wasn’t  _ really  _ his money. It wouldn’t carry over to another dimension once he got home.

The woman blanched. “What? Are you serious?”

Saitama kept the tormented expression off his face. One-thousand dollars was three-months rent for him in City Z. “Yes. It’s for a good cause.”

“Wow. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “Sorry, I’m just so touched. It’s always wonderful to find true kindness in this messed-up community.”

He was almost afraid to ask. These people couldn’t even handle Seafolk; the mortality rate was probably crazy high if there were as many monsters as his world. “What’s wrong with this community?”

“You must know. The Docks is an infamously terrible area, especially in the past month.”

“I’m not from around here.” It seemed that would be his new trademark line.

“But still, it was on national television…”

“My hometown is quite isolated. Please just tell me.”

She gave him a peculiar look, but elaborated nonetheless. And so Saitama heard the story of Lung, once leader of the ABB but imprisoned, then broken out by Oni Lee and Bakuda, who blew up half the city and a decent portion of the Asian population, getting Lung and herself imprisoned, causing the ABB’s fast decline, though they still have a moderate presence in The Docks, but she mourns that Lung is in prison because he was such an incredible leader --

“Okay, stop!” Saitama yelled, unable to take it anymore. “Cut it down to twenty words or less.”

“Our community’s suffering really can’t be cut down to twenty words,” she protested. “Anyway, I was mostly finished. Do you see now why I hate parahumans? People like Bakuda are destroying this world.”

He did not recall her saying that ever. He must have drifted off during that portion. “Not really. It seems like all your problems are mostly gang-related. And you like that Lung guy.”

“Lung isn’t just any parahuman. He’s a hero.” She swooned uncharacteristically. “He defeated Leviathan once, just like that Saitama guy.” She squinted at him again. “Are you sure you aren’t him?”

“Yep. Positive. Just a coincidence. Anyway, it was nice to meet you, lady. I’ve gotta get running.” He hesitated. Something she had struck a chord in him. “Lung is a hero, you say? Doesn’t he lead a gang?”

She nodded vigorously. “Of course he’s a hero. Before Bakuda came in, the ABB offered our people protection from the Empire 88 and other gangs, and gave our kids futures to grow into. They were really a boon to society.”

Saitama didn’t bother asking what the Empire 88 was. God knows it would just lead to more dull rambling. 

But this gave him something to consider. Maybe these ABB people weren’t so bad after all. Maybe gangs represented something else in this world?

“Thanks again for your patronage. My name’s Yui, by the way. Please, take my number. I’d love to have you for dinner and thank you properly. You seem like the good sort of cape.”

“Ah, sure.” He felt the many pockets of his costume for his phone.

Oops. He must have forgotten it back at the apartment. Which means the reminder he set for the ceremony wouldn’t have gone off…

“Yui! Quick, what time is it?”

She glanced at her phone. “Seven fifty-three. Almost closing time, actually.”

“Seven fifty-three,” Saitama repeated, wide-eyed. He was going to be so late. He rifled through his pockets again and came up with the note Miss Militia had given him. The address was scrawled in messy handwriting. “8PM” was underlined four times.

He showed Yui the note. “Do you know where this is?”

“Hmm. Yeah, it’s not too far from here. Turn left when you exit the shop and go down three blocks, then turn right and walk until you reach a large grass hill. It should be right up the long series of,” she blinked as Saitama disappeared from the store in a flurry of white, “steps.”

.

.

.

Saitama arrived right at 7:59PM. Yui’s directions had led him to a temple, isolated in a portion of the city that was overgrown with uncharacteristic forestry. The location was not quite what he had imagined, but he figured he wasn’t familiar with this world’s customs. And as he mulled it over, it made more and more sense to hold a commemoration like this at a temple in order to honor the dead.

So with that in mind, Saitama wasn’t too bewildered when he stepped inside and found a room full of somber, tattooed Asians, lit with red candles that bathed their features in sinister red light.

“Welcome, Saitama. We’re pleased that you have accepted our invitation,” said the man in the center. His face was plain and his figure was unimpressive, but he spoke with a quiet confidence that stilled the room.

“Hello,” Saitama said. He thought he was required to be here, but maybe he was just being dramatic for the reporters. He looked around. There were no reporters. Hidden cameras, maybe?

“Approach.” 

Saitama awkwardly shuffled past the shirtless crowd. The man grasped him by the shoulders and pushed him to his knees. Another man came and placed a bowl of rice wine in his hands.

“Killer of Leviathan. Hero of Brockton Bay. Ender of Endbringers. Son of Kyushu. You have come to us in a time of great darkness to shine the Red Sun’s light upon this blackened city,” said the first man. “Fate has chosen you as Lung’s successor, as our future.”

Saitama suppressed the urge to yawn as the man blathered on about Japan, the gods, glory, etc. He tuned him out after a while. He’d had enough of this from Yui, but he wasn’t about to interrupt such a serious event.

A string of ceremonial beads was placed around his neck, snapping him out of his stupor. “Drink this now, and accept your sacred position.”

Oh thank god. It was finally over. He drank the wine quickly, breathing out the dry aftertaste.

The first man pulled up and grinned widely at him. He pulled up his arm and turned him toward the crowd.

“Brothers. Our time of strife is over. Like the phoenix, we rise from the ashes. Like the dragon, our fire will burn hotter than the sun itself. Like the tiger, our roar is across the world. It is my great honor to announce Saitama, the new leader of the ABB!”

Saitama’s jaw dropped. 

“Wait, what?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 is a lucky number in Japanese and Chinese culture! : ) and possibly other Asian cultures i am unsure.
> 
> also sorry about the formatting in the PHO part. had a bit of trouble there and not sure how to make indentations...


End file.
